


Lean on Me.

by Bluebuell33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everything always ends happy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sherlock on Drugs, So many other things but you will have to read to find out., mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: Greg accidentally takes the wrong bag home from the airport when returning from a case in Italy, while in a hurry to make his divorce appointment. This brings a gorgeous man into his life that seems too good to be true.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 196
Kudos: 316
Collections: JustMystradeThoughts Plot Bunny Adoptions





	1. Home in time.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a long time in the making. I have rewritten it twice or more I lost count a bit. I want to thank the amazing Paialovespie for helping me get this right. I say the idea on a twitter bot that gave out plot ideas and thought yes that is a perfect Mystrade. I hope you all enjoy this story. I have the first 4 chapters written already, there will be a few more, but not sure the count just yet. Will be posting weekly probably. Please comment and let me know what you thought. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg checked his watch for the fourth time since stepping off the plane. He was going to be late, the unexpected layover in Germany changed everything. Now he would have to run to make the meeting on time. She was going to have a field day with this. Just one more thing to throw at him.  _ Would this divorce never be over?  _

Greg made it to the baggage carousel just as the bags arrived, spotting his new light tan parma Italian leather duffle bag rounding the corner next to his suit bag. The duffle was a present to himself after solving a case he had been working on for the past six months that lead him to Italy and finally the arrest of a serial killer. His own worn out duffle bag had finally fallen apart, so he treated himself to something he would not normally buy. Because he deserved it, earned it even.

Leaning forward, he grabbed both bags as they drew near and ran for the doors, hailing a cab as soon as he cleared them. Now all he could do was sit and wait.

Three hours later, he unlocked his flat, stepping in and dropping his bags at his feet.  _ Done. She is gone. Took everything she could at the end, but now she is gone.  _ A year of being separated hadn’t made her any better. Greg felt a weight lift from his chest. He needed a shower and sleep, so much sleep. 

Lifting his bags from the floor, he made his way to the small bedroom; this flat was supposed to be a quick stop on the way to freedom before she cleaned him out of everything. Looks like he would be here a bit longer yet. 

Setting the duffle on the bed, he slid the zip open reaching in for the small bag that held his toiletries, only to find it wasn’t there. His hand came back with a different small bag, sleek, black and definitely not his. Opening the bag revealed expensive lube and an equally expensive prostate massager. 

Greg found himself staring a bit too long at the items in his hands, his mind drifting a little to a time before he was married and an exciting one night stand with a man from Bristol. He quickly set the items on the bed and looked back into the duffle to see if there was any way to find the owner. He tried to keep his mind from wandering to what kind of person the owner may be and if they enjoyed that massager often. 

He was halfway through the bag digging past the posh pants and fancy toiletries when there was a knock at his door. Pausing, he tried to think of who could be stopping by without texting or calling first.  _ God, don’t let it be her, just here to gloat. She was supposed to leave him alone now.  _ Wearily, he crossed the sitting room to open his door, ready to tell her off. The sight that greeted him was not that of his ex but of a tall, lean, posh, impeccably dressed man in a three-piece suit leaning on an umbrella, holding a bag identical to the one sitting on his bed. 

“Detective Inspector Lestrade?” The man questioned. Greg realised he had been just staring at the man for several moments without saying anything. 

“Uhm Yes?” Greg cleared his throat, trying to compose himself into someone a little less awestruck. 

“I believe you grabbed the wrong bag at baggage claim after disembarking your plane this afternoon.” The man raised an eyebrow as he spoke, he seemed to be studying Greg. A small smirk slid across his kissable lips. As the thought crossed Greg’s mind, the man smirked more as though he could read Greg’s thoughts. Greg felt a blush creep up his neck and over his cheeks.  _ God, when was the last time that happened. This man must think he is an idiot just standing here.  _

“Uhm, yea sorry. I was running a bit late and didn’t check until I just got home. Long couple of days working on a case.” He stopped himself from rambling on. This man didn’t care, he just wanted his own bag back. The one that was currently sitting in his bedroom with the contents spread across his bed. The thought set his cheeks on fire again, causing the man to raise an eyebrow and smirk yet again. 

_ Did this man know what he was doing to Greg? Please don’t let him be straight.  _

“Let me just grab your bag.” Greg spun around and hurried to his room, trying to quickly and carefully pack everything back in the bag, making sure the little black bag was on the top. He returned to the sitting room to find the man standing just inside the closed door, waiting. 

“Here,” He held out the bag. The man gave him a pointed look then looked down at the bag as he took it from Greg. “Everything is there. I opened it to see if there was any identification, so I could find you. Well, I don’t mean you. I just mean the owner, which I guess is you, so yea.”

_ Fuck, please let the floor open and suck him down and out of this awkward moment.  _

“I trust it is all there,” The man smiled, turning towards the door, before stopping and turning back. Reaching into his inner pocket, he withdrew a card, handing it to Greg. “Give me a call when the appropriate time has passed, I would very much like to see you again.” 

Greg looked down at the card in his hand. It read: Mycroft Holmes on one side and a number on the other. Simple, elegant like the man it came from. Greg looked back up to see the door closing and the man disappearing from view. 

“Wait!” Greg opened his door, stepping out onto the landing. “What do you mean wait the appropriate time?” 

The man stopped, turning his head to look up at Greg. “Too soon, Gregory. You’ve only just become, shall we say independent today.” With that, the man was gone. 

Only once the outside door closed and the man was truly out of sight, did Greg realise the man had used his name twice, had found him and knew things about him, he hadn’t told anyone about yet. Puzzling these thoughts, Greg walked back into his flat and closed the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday morning, Greg entered his office to a mountain of paperwork and a million emails. He had spent the weekend thinking about Mycroft Holmes and their strange chance meeting. _ What were the odds that they would have identical bags and have been on the same flight? _

Greg started his computer and searched Mycroft’s name to see if there was anything out there. The Google search he had done from home, brought nothing up. The man didn’t seem to exist. If it wasn’t for the card in his hand, Greg would have thought it was all a dream that the jet lag had formed in his mind. 

He had stopped himself from texting the number on the card twice already. Mycroft had said to give it time.  _ But how much was needed? A week? A month? A year? Surely not a year? Maybe he could wait a week or two… _

_ Why did Mycroft want him to wait? Because the divorce was just finalized?  _

In that case, Greg should have told him it had been over long before that. A person can only put up with so much cheating before calling it quits.

Reluctantly, Greg had put the card in the back of his wallet and tried not to spend every moment thinking about it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He managed to wait two weeks before pulling out the number again, that had been burning a hole in his pocket.  _ What to say though?  _

**_Hey, I know it’s only been a few weeks but I can't stop thinking about you. (Too simple?)_ **

**_Hello Gorgeous, I can’t stop thinking about my lips whispering across your pale skin. (A bit much?)_ **

_ God, the dreams he has been having of that beautiful man since meeting him. What to say though? What to say??? Maybe start with texting? _

Inputting the number, he opened the text screen. 

**Hey, this is the guy that accidentally took your bag home from the airport last week.**

**_Deleted_ **

Greg set his phone down on the desk after that and tried to start working his way through all the emails that had piled up over the weekend. He had spent the last weekend out with friends at his local, celebrating officially being divorced. None of them had ever cared for her, always thought she was no good for him. 

He hadn’t dated since he and Karen had split last year, mostly he had just been working to pay off the debt getting a divorce was costing him. Now that it was finally done, he was ready to try again. Though he was still in debt, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. 

_ Ping _

His head turned towards his phone laying face down on his desk. Butterflies filled his stomach.  _ Could it be Mycroft? Greg hadn’t given Mycroft his number, but Mycroft had tracked him down with less.  _ Reaching slowly he turned his phone over and opened the new message. Just his friend Bill. 

**Received:**

**Hey Greg! How’s single life treating you? Call me we’ll go out.**

He typed out a quick message hit send and placed the phone once more face down. _ Back to the emails.  _ He made his way through the first half of them by lunchtime. As he stopped to eat a sandwich from the deli on the corner, he looked at his phone again. _ Maybe he should text him… But what if Mycroft had changed his mind? It all seemed a bit too perfect, too easy. What were the chances really, that he would grab the wrong bag that happened to belong to the most gorgeous man in all of London?  _

**Sent: Hey, This is Greg Lestrade. Was wondering if you’re free this weekend?**

_ There. Done. Simple. Now the waiting begins.  _

The wait turned out to be quite shorter than Greg thought it would be. Within five minutes he received a call from Mycroft. 

“Good Afternoon, Gregory. What did you have in mind?”

Greg could hear his smirk through the phone. “Hey Mycroft, was wondering if you would be up for dinner, maybe?” 

“Where would you like to meet?” 

_ Where to take him?  _

  
  


“I was thinking The Avenue in Mayfair?” 

There was a silence on the line before Mycroft spoke, Greg found he was holding his breath. 

“That would be satisfying. Shall we say 8 o’clock Saturday evening?” 

“Uhmm, yea, I will meet you there.” 

“Very good. Until then, Gregory.” 

Greg hung up his phone with a smile on his face.  _ Oh god, he had a date with Mycroft! What the bloody hell was he going to wear? _

_ Thank god, Donovon had told him about this restaurant and the delicious food they had. It was also in a neighbourhood that was about as posh as the man he was meeting. _

_ Now, he really needed to figure out what he was going to wear. At least he had a few days to find something… _

  
  


_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

Saturday night, dressed in his nice dark suit with a light blue shirt and navy tie, Greg checked his reflection one more time. He ran his hand through his hair, spiking his salt and pepper locks just a bit, before giving up. Nothing was going to make this look any better. Mycroft would have to take it or leave it at this point.

He smoothed his lapels down and checked his pockets for his phone and wallet. With both accounted for, he grabbed his keys, closed the door and went down the stairs to meet the cab waiting for him. 

“The Avenue in Mayfair, please,” Greg asked, sliding into the cab, trying to calm his nerves as he did. He stared out the window, watching the city pass by while trying to keep his leg from bouncing straight through the bottom of the cab.

A short drive later found him outside the Restaurant staring at the front door. Butterflies filled his stomach as he paid the cabbie and stepped out onto the kerb. As he faced the building to his right he noticed Mycroft walking towards him. He wore a light grey suit, set off by a matching waistcoat, a white shirt and red tie. Greg felt his mouth go dry as his butterflies doubled.  _ How did he get this lucky? _

“Detective Inspector.” Mycroft strolled up, his umbrella tapping along beside him. 

“Just Greg is fine, Mr Holmes,” Greg said, sticking out his hand for a formal handshake. 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his hand before grasping it to shake firmly. “Shall we?” He gestured towards the building. 

“Lead the way,” Greg replied. This evening was shaping up to be something, but what?  _ Was this a date?  _ Greg hoped Mycroft knew that he was considering this a date.  _ What if Mycroft thought this was more of a thank you? _

Greg opened the door, holding it for Mycroft, his hand falling to the small of Mycroft’s back as he passed through the door. 

They were seated at a table for two off to the side. Quiet and almost intimate, Greg thought as he pulled out the chair for Mycroft. Wanting to make sure that Mycroft knew this was a date. 

“Thank you,” Mycroft sat opening his napkin, placing it across his lap. 

Greg followed suit, picking up his menu after as Mycroft looked over the wine list.

“Shall I choose?” Mycroft asked over the top of the list. 

“Yea, sure." Greg didn’t have the faintest clue about wine. Whiskey sure. Wine not so much. 

By the time they reached the main entree, Mycroft had sipped through two glasses of wine and was listening to Greg’s story about the Met with interest. Greg regaled him with bad guys he had chased and the dumb ways they had tried to evade him over dessert. 

By the end of the evening, Greg was feeling better about everything as he returned from the loo to find that Mycroft had settled their bill and was waiting near the front. 

“I am sorry to cut the evening short, but I am afraid something has come up.” He shifted his umbrella. “I had a lovely evening.”

“As did I,” Greg replied, a little disappointed that it had come to an end already. But he followed Mycroft from the building to a car waiting. 

“Goodbye, Gregory.” Mycroft leaned forward pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, before stepping back and into the car. 

Greg stood watching him leave, unsure of the emotions he was feeling. It felt, so final. Like that was his one chance with Mycroft and it didn’t work out, now life went back to normal. 

_ God, don’t let that be the last time he sees the man.  _


	2. Overdose.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg runs into Mycroft somewhere he didn't expect too.

**Chapter 2**

Two weeks later:

Greg had texted with Mycroft off and on through the weeks. Just short, small things as Mycroft had said he was out of town on business. Greg still didn’t really know what Mycroft did for a living. He was always vague on the details. He glanced at his phone contemplating sending Mycroft text right now about his day. 

“Hey, Lestrade!” His Sergeant opened his office door. “Just received a call of a domestic happening at the house of Craig Martin.” 

“Craig Martin the drug lord?” Greg looked up from his phone, grabbing his keys. “Man, if we could nail this guy for something as simple as a domestic that would get the ball rolling.” 

“Knew you would be happy.” His sergeant started to gather the team as they set out for Martin’s house. 

Three hours and one sprained wrist later, Greg was walking through the A&E. When he passed the waiting area he noticed a single man sitting with his head in his hands. Pausing for a moment, he realized that it was the very man he had been thinking about earlier today... _ Mycroft _ . He deliberated for a second before walking over to sitting next to him. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked gently, hope not to scare the man. He noticed that Mycroft was dressed more casual today than he had been when Greg last saw him. No three-piece suit this time, just dark grey trousers and a white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

“Detective Inspector,” Mycroft said quietly, before raising his head from his hands. 

“I didn’t mean to bother you. You just looked like you could use a friend.” Greg fumbled as Mycroft still didn’t look towards him. “Sorry, I can just go if you want..”

He stood, but as he took a step, he felt five slender fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him. He paused looking down at the man holding his uninjured wrist to see a pair of soft grey eyes staring up at him. 

“Forgive me, I am not myself tonight.” 

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Greg said again. 

“You are not. Please sit, if you would like.” Mycroft squeezed his wrist slightly before letting go. He seemed so quiet and unlike the man Greg had met outside his front door almost a month ago. That man had seemed unreal and untouchable. Tonight he seemed similar to the man Greg had dinner with just two weeks earlier. Reserved and quiet.

“Can I ask why you are here?” Greg asked, sitting back down next to Mycroft. His wrist felt the loss of warmth that Mycroft’s fingers had given when curled around it. He tried not to think about it or how good Mycroft smelled right now. 

Mycroft had gone back to staring at the floor beside him. “My brother had an incident involving a substance and nearly lost his life tonight because of it.”

“Drugs?” Greg provided carefully. Mycroft had talked little of his brother during their texting.

“I am afraid so. He has a brilliant mind and many great prospects ahead of him if he could just resist the temptation of the high.” Mycroft shook his head, placing it back in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. 

Greg had to stop himself from reaching out and running a hand over the man’s back. “Is there anything I can do?” Greg wanted to help Mycroft so much it made his chest hurt. He had spent the last two weeks wanting to talk to him more, but trying to keep his texts to a minimum, not reaching out to much for fear of seeming needy, and now that he had a chance, he didn’t want to leave just yet. 

“There is nothing anyone can do right now. We just have to wait until the doctor is finished.” Mycroft lifted his head, a single tear running down his cheek. “This is all my fault. I should have seen this coming and prevented the whole occurrence from happening. It’s my fault he is here.” 

Greg couldn’t stop himself, he reached out, taking Mycroft’s hand. “I know I don't know you very well, but I highly doubt it is your fault that your brother took enough drugs to overdose.” 

Mycroft was looking intently at their joined hands. “That is kind of you to say. But it is my fault. I should have been watching more closely.” 

“Unless you are a mind reader, I don’t see how you could have prevented this. As a cop, I have seen my fair share of addicts and what I have learned is if they want it, they will find a way no matter what anyone does or doesn’t do.” Greg found himself lightly rubbing his thumb across the top of Mycroft’s hand. 

“Thank you for trying to reassure me.” Mycroft gave him a half-smile that reminded Greg of the first time they met. 

“Any time.” Greg gave his most sincere smile back. 

“Mr Holmes?” A man entered the waiting room.  _ A doctor finally _ , thought Greg. He didn’t know how long Mycroft had been waiting for.

“Yes?” Mycroft stood, still holding Greg’s hand. 

“Your brother is going to pull through just fine. We have taken the necessary steps to help him. Have you thought about rehab for him?” 

“I have.” Mycroft glanced at Greg out the corner of his eye. 

Greg squeezed his hand gently, standing up beside him. It was hard to believe that he was here next to a man who was basically a stranger, yet they were acting like they had been together for a while. 

“If you and your partner would like to see him now, he is resting, but you are welcome to come in.” 

Greg started to say that they weren’t together. That they really didn’t know each other, even though they were standing here holding hands. But Mycroft spoke first.

“Thank you, Doctor. Which room is he in?” 

“Room 208. It is a private room as requested. Let me know if you have any questions.” The doctor then left the room. 

Mycroft turned towards Greg, still holding his hand. “I know this is a lot to ask, being that well... “ He paused, not finishing his sentence. “Would you accompany me to my brother’s room?” He looked down, before meeting Greg’s eyes. “I could use some support right now and there — there isn’t anyone else... I understand if that is a lot to ask.”

Greg didn’t even hesitate before answering. “Of course. I know we don’t really know each other... but I kind of feel like I have known you forever and I kind of want to be here for you.” He looked down at their clasped hands, shyly.

Mycroft gazed at him for a moment before he leaned forward slowly, pressing his lips softly to Greg’s cheek. “Thank you.” 

Greg missed the feel of Mycroft’s lips on his cheek the second he drew back. He raised a hand touching the spot as if he could keep the feel of Mycroft’s longer that way. “You’re welcome.” He finally managed to say. 

Mycroft gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand as he led him out of the room and down the hallway to the brother’s room. 

Greg waited beside Mycroft as he stood next to his brother's bed, watching him sleep. Mycroft reached his free hand to push his brother’s sweat-drenched curls from his forehead, all the while never letting go of Greg’s hand. 

Greg looked the brother over as he lay in the bed, he was tall and slender like Mycroft, a bit younger. The cheekbones must be a family trait, he thought. Both of them had similar facial features that they shared. Greg cast his eyes up at Mycroft’s face, wondering what their life growing up must have been like and how they ended up just the two of them now. 

Greg stood together with Mycroft like this for almost an hour, quietly, not a sound in the room besides the beeping of the machines. Greg could only watch Mycroft watching his brother and wish there was something more he could do for the man. It was clear that this kind of thing had happened before, Mycroft looked at his brother as though he had stood in this very spot many times before… 

“You would be correct,” Mycroft spoke quietly.

“About?” Greg questioned, puzzled at what he was correct about.

“This is not the first time my brother has overdosed and I fear it won’t be the last.” 

The sadness in his voice broke Greg’s heart in two. “I am sorry…” 

“Thank you but you have no reason to be sorry.” Mycroft looked over at him for the first time since entering the room. “I am sorry for dragging you into all of this. It has just been us for so long, I missed having the support to lean on.” 

_ Lean on me. Let me be the one to support you. Please. Let me do this. _

Greg stepped a bit closer, letting Mycroft angle his body to lean against Greg’s side and shoulder as they stood. 

“Why are you so nice?” Mycroft asks quietly, his head leaning on Greg’s shoulder.

“I am caring by nature, but I also like you,” Greg said softly. “A lot if I am being honest.” 

“Come home with me?” Mycroft lifted his head, looking into Greg’s eyes with a longing that Greg had never seen in anyone else before and he had been married once. “I find, I don’t want to be alone right now.

“Yes,” Greg replied instantly. His heart racing. This was it. A moment he had wished for since meeting Mycroft all those weeks ago. A chance.

  
  
  
  



	3. Mycroft's home

**Chapter 3**

Mycroft walked with Greg out of the building and into a waiting black car, hands still clasped together... The second the car door closed Mycroft slid across the seat and into Greg’s arms. Greg tried to watch his sprained hand carefully as he wrapped his arms around Mycroft. He had completely forgotten about the sprain while at the hospital. 

“What happened to your wrist?” Mycroft asked, his hand running lightly over the bandage.

“All in the line of duty. It’s okay, though,” Greg reassured as he held Mycroft closely. Resting his head on top of Mycroft’s where it lay on his shoulder. Comfort. Mycroft sought comfort from him. Sinking into his arms in the back of the car, like they did this every night. 

He wondered for not the first time who Mycroft was and what the rest of his life was like. He was clearly someone of importance with the way he dressed and having a chauffeured car waiting for him. Greg wondered how a man like this was still alone and not at least dating. He tightened his grip around Mycroft just a bit, holding him close as he snuggled into Greg’s shoulder. 

This lasted until they reached Mycroft’s flat and the driver gave a discreet knock on the back door before opening it. Mycroft slid out of the car first nodding to his driver, then leading Greg up the stairs, unlocked the flat with a code and thumbprint. 

Greg again thought about what kind of a man he had come home with that had such locks on his door. At this moment, he didn’t have a lot of time to think about it as they made it through the front door and he was in awe of the flat before him. He had been expecting nice but this was beyond posh. Everything was lush, leather or metal and made him feel like he should not be allowed in such a place. 

He looked down at his jeans, jumper and his shabby trainers. He had come home after the tussle at Martin’s house and changed clothes, only to find his wrist wasn’t getting better, so he had taken himself to the A&E. It was a little late to fix what he was wearing now. He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans before looking up to find Mycroft watching him. 

“Uhmmm- ” 

“Drink?” Mycroft interrupted.

“Uhm, yea that would be great.” Greg followed Mycroft into the sitting room, where he was a bit afraid to touch anything.

“Please, have a seat,” Mycroft waved a hand towards his black leather sofa facing the elegantly carved fireplace on the far wall as he opened a bottle at his bar. 

Greg was glad at least it wasn’t some nice white sofa he would mess up by sitting on. The room itself was more lived-in than the rest of the flat. 

“This is my second favourite room,” Mycroft volunteered.

“Oh? What is your first?” Greg asked, taking the offered drink from Mycroft.  _ Whiskey. _ The first sip went down very smoothly _.  _ “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Mycroft took a seat near him on the sofa, taking a sip of his own drink. “As for my favourite room, well I can’t give away all my secrets just yet.” 

Greg watched as Mycroft gave him a mischievous grin that endeared the man to him even more. “Is that so?” He countered with a wink, sipping his whiskey. 

Two weeks ago, he thought he may never get to spend time with Mycroft again, much less be sitting on his sofa, drinking whiskey and flirting with the man. 

Mycroft seems more at ease now, sipping his whiskey, gazing at him over the glass, joking about things. Greg wanted to move down the sofa a bit and take the man in his arms again. Like they had been in the car. He must have given Mycroft some sort of look as the man drew quiet and stood to refill their glasses. 

“If you keep this up, I hope you don’t mind putting me up in a spare room or letting me kip on the sofa.” Greg chuckled as the liquid started to warm his body, giving him the courage that he hadn’t processed earlier. 

“I dare say, you are welcome to stay here.” Mycroft returned with their glasses holding two fingers of whiskey each.

They began chatting about odd things, childhood, siblings, absent parents. Greg learned that both of Mycroft’s parents were living but had little to do with the brothers. Too busy in their own lives. Greg felt sorry that they were missing out on their sons and that it left Mycroft trying to save his brother all alone. 

After their third glass, Mycroft had sat down closer to Greg, turning sideways to face him with his leg folded between them. He started to slowly touch Greg as they talked, a hand on his arm, absently brushing something from his shoulder, his knee-grazing Greg's thigh as he moved a bit. 

Greg found he wanted more, more touches, more glances, more everything. He reached out a hand, sliding his fingers together with Mycroft’s, causing the man to stutter in his sentence.

Greg smiled softly at Mycroft. “Is this okay?” 

“Yes, quite,” Mycroft whispered as he looked down at their hands. “Thank you for today, Gregory.” 

“You know no one calls me Gregory? Not even my mum.” Greg replied softly. "And you're welcome"

Mycroft paused, seemingly unsure of how to answer. 

Greg pulled Mycroft’s hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. “I like that you call me Gregory. Makes me feel kind of special.”

“You are special, Gregory.” Mycroft was looking over at him with hooded eyes.

Greg licked his lips and watched Mycroft’s eyes follow his tongue across the seam. Deciding to take the risk, Greg leaned forward catching Mycroft’s lips with his own. What was meant to be a sweet peck of lips became quite something else as their lips touched and blazed the growing spark between them into a raging fire.

Bringing his hands up to cup Mycroft’s face, their lips and tongues danced desperately against each other with more passion than he could have imagined their first kiss would have. It was breathtaking. He tried to slide closer to Mycroft on the couch, the angle was all wrong causing them to pull back and Greg to let out a giggle. 

“Seemed better in my mind,” Greg grinned. 

Mycroft smiled back at him. “Quite.” 

Just as they leaned back towards each other for another try, Mycroft’s phone began to ring where it sat on the coffee table. Mycroft paused, pulling back from Greg. As he reached for his phone, Greg saw the name Charles flashing on the screen.  _ Who was Charles?  _

Mycroft answered as he strode out of the room, leaving Greg still sitting on the couch, a bit lost about what to do. Five minutes later found Mycroft returning, the mood from before gone now. 

“I am afraid something has come up. I have a car arriving to take you home now. I hope that is okay?” Mycroft stands at the door to the lounge, fiddling with the phone in his hands, not looking up at Greg.

“Yea, sure. Everything okay with Sherlock?” Greg questioned, standing and making his way to the front door. 

Mycroft looked surprised at his question. “ Yes, nothing to do with him. Thank you for your support this evening, Inspector.”

Greg shook his head. “It’s Greg and it was no trouble.” 

Mycroft nodded, opening the door of his flat, holding it for Greg to walk out of. 

“Can I see you again?” Greg bolding decided to ask. 

“I am not sure,” Mycroft replied. “Goodbye, Inspector.” He then closed the door as Greg stood to wait on the front step.

_ Well, that felt like yet another no.  _ Greg didn’t know what had just happened but something changed after the phone call Mycroft took. _ But what? _

He got into the waiting car and let it drive him across town to his flat and away from Mycroft. 

  
  
  



	4. Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy this chapter and are still enjoying this story. <3

**Chapter 4**

Greg decided to put Mycroft out of his mind and focus on other parts of his life, like work and friends. He wasn’t going to chase a man who seemed so hot and cold at the same time. They seemed to be having a great evening after the hospital but then things went south after they kissed and Mycroft received that phone call. 

Greg tried to text him later in the week but received nothing back. Three days after that he received a text from an unknown number. 

**Received: Stop trying to contact my fiance. Mycroft wants nothing to do with you.**

That settled it. Greg read the message four times. He thought about replying just once but thought it was better to let it go. Mycroft was too good to be true anyways. No one that gorgeous would really want what Greg could offer anyways.

He couldn’t figure out why Mycroft had given him his card in the first place and told him he wanted to see him again if he was engaged. _Why had he told Greg he was alone and had no one to lean on at the hospital?_

None of it made sense unless that was why Mycroft kept walking away from him. First at the restaurant then sending him home after they had kissed at Mycroft’s home.  _ But why invite him there at all? Why kiss him? Was he one of those people who still saw people on the side even though they were taken? _

Greg had been cheated on enough in his life that he would never be the one that broke up a couple. No, he wasn’t going to reach out, he would walk away. His heart broke over what could have been between him and Mycroft. He thought about how Mycroft had been at the hospital, he had seemed so genuine that night. 

Greg let out a sigh, pulling his mind out of thoughts about Mycroft and back to the crime scene, he was currently at. Anderson was looking over the scene on the front lawn as Greg waited for his conclusion. Anderson was not his favourite person to work with but it was his only choice today. 

“He is wrong, you know!” came a voice from behind the police tape. 

Greg turned to find a well-dressed man in a long black coat standing behind the tape, watching him. There was something familiar about him. Greg walked towards him, trying to figure out where he knew him from. 

“Mind telling me what you think he is wrong about?” Greg asked as he approached the man. 

“Everything, obviously.” The man seemed bored. 

“And how would you know?” Greg came to stop in front of the man. Standing this close left no doubt in Greg’s mind, he knew where he had seen him before. Only last time, he hadn’t been awake and was lying in a hospital bed, his unruly curls had been stuck to his forehead with a sheen of sweat from the high he was coming off of. 

_ It was Mycroft’s brother. Just when he was close to getting Mycroft out of his head.  _

“It’s clear from the footprints that the killer was over 5’11 and had a slight limp on his right side.” The man pointed towards the grass. This is when Greg noticed his hands were shaking badly. 

He remembered that Mycroft had said his brother had a drug problem, but that he was also brilliant. “Are you high?” Greg asked as the man’s hands quickly returned to his pockets. A quick check of his eyes showed them clear and bright.  _ So not high. _

“No!” The man scoffed. “If you don’t want my help, I will be going but you will never solve it with that man on forensics.” He pointed at Anderson with disgust. 

“What’s your name?” Greg questioned.

“Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. The only one in the world,” Sherlock finished proudly.

“Is that so? Well, since you are not high, by all means, please show me who killed this poor woman.” Greg gestured towards the house. 

Sherlock eagerly ducked under the tape and began whipping around the scene, deductions flying almost faster than Greg could keep up.

Sherlock had the case solved in under an hour and Greg found himself very impressed by what he could do and how Sherlock saw things that no one else did. Mycroft had been right about his brother, he had great potential and a very clever mind.  _ But could he stay away from the drugs? _

Greg settled that he would talk to Sherlock about helping with cases if he could stay clean from any drugs. Part of him wondered if this would be a chance to see Mycroft as well, another part of him hoped that he wouldn’t have to see Mycroft if he helped his brother. 

Remembering how upset Mycroft had been at the hospital when Sherlock had overdosed was why Greg wanted to help. Even if things hadn’t ended well with Mycroft, he didn’t want him to have to go through that again, not if Greg could do something about it. 

Greg walked out of the front door to where he had last seen Sherlock only to find his sergeant there instead.

“Hey Donovan, where is Sherlock?” 

“Don’t know sir. He just took off a bit ago. Can’t believe he solved that so fast. Are we sure it’s all correct?” 

“Yea, from what I can tell. We will check all the evidence tonight.” Greg replied, looking around at the streets hoping he would see where Sherlock took off to. But no luck. Maybe he would turn up again, as Greg had no way to find him otherwise.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next two weeks, a pattern came to light. If Greg was at any interesting crime scenes, Sherlock would show up out of the blue and solve it, and now he would stay long enough to fill out the paperwork that Greg needed as well. 

Everything was moving along. Greg had gone on a couple failed dates since Mycroft. Even though the man had cast him aside without telling Greg himself, no one ever matched up to Mycroft and Greg was having trouble developing anything meaningful with anyone else. __

_ Where did that leave him? _

_ Alone that’s where.  _

  
  


Then came a phone call that changed it all. St. Barts Hospital. Sherlock had been brought in after having been found beaten and left in an alley. Apparently, he had told the EMTs to call Greg. 

Greg rushed out on his date (boring man anyways) and across town as fast as he could. On the way he wondered why Sherlock had told them to call him. Surely Mycroft was able to handle everything.  _ Oh god, Mycroft… Would he be there? No, don’t worry about that right now. Sherlock first.  _

Greg arrived in record time to the hospital, pushing through the doors and trying not to run down the hallways to the nurse’s station.  __

“Sherlock Holmes?” Greg asked the nurse behind the desk. 

“The doctor is with him right now. You may have a seat in the waiting room and I will let the doctor know you are here.” 

Greg thanked her, moving towards the waiting area, his nerves running wild. It had only been a short time but Sherlock had become a friend, sort of a little brother that Greg had taken under his wing.  _ Who on earth had beaten him and why? Sure he could be irritating and rude but still. _

Greg paced a bit before sitting down to wait. He was curious to where Mycroft was and if he was coming soon as well. When a nurse passed by he inquired about Mycroft and was told that Greg was the only person contacted for Sherlock Holmes. 

At least he didn’t have to worry about running into Mycroft this way, but he couldn’t help but feel like Mycroft should know about this. Not that he could contact Mycroft himself. The number he had no longer worked. One drunken night he had tried the number wanting to know why Mycroft hadn’t told him that he was engaged and had let him believe he was free to date Greg or at least was interested in him, but the number had come back no longer in use. 

Greg would just have to wait until he could talk to Sherlock about it and maybe get a number from him for Mycroft. An hour later he got his chance, the doctor gave him a rundown on Sherlock’s injuries. Cuts, bruises, a cracked rib, twisted wrist. Someone had done a number on him. The doctor said he would need rest and someone to make sure he took his meds for the next few days.

Greg asked if he could see him now and the doctor granted him access. Opening the door to Sherlock’s room, Greg had a flash of when Mycroft and he had visited Sherlock’s room before. He shook the memories from his mind and the feel of Mycroft’s hand from his as he entered the room. 

Sherlock sat on the bed, struggling to tie his left shoe. “Oh, it’s you,” was all Greg got out of him before he went back to his shoe. 

“Yea, it’s me. You told them to call me.” Greg huffed. “Why me and not Mycroft? Does your brother even know?” 

“I expect he does. The insufferable arse is always putting his nose in my business.” Sherlock winced as he tried to stand from the bed. 

“Hey, You are supposed to be taking it easy.” Greg stepped up next to him, helping him stand. “Doc says you need someone to keep an eye on you for the next couple of days. Do you have somewhere to go or are you coming home with me?” 

Sherlock seemed to think for a moment, leaning against Greg. “Uhm, no not really. Would it be too much for me to go with you?” 

For the first time, Greg saw a vulnerability in Sherlock’s eyes he had never seen before. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. Come on let’s get you settled.” 

As they began to ease their way towards the door, it opened and a man in a well-tailored suit swept into the room. 

“Well, now Sherlock what have you gotten yourself into? All this drama for nothing it looks like. Your brother will surely be disappointed.” 

Greg felt Sherlock go stiff where he leaned on Greg to be able to walk. “Oi mate, maybe wait for the whole story before jumping the gun.” Greg didn’t know who this man was but he was sending Greg a vibe that said he was not a nice person. 

“If my brother was so upset and disappointed then he would have come himself.” Sherlock sneered. “Could be arsed to leave his little project, could he?” 

Greg wondered where Mycroft was at right now and why he hadn’t come instead of sending this buffoon. Greg still wasn’t even sure who this man was or why Mycroft had sent him. 

“Mycroft is currently busy out of the country on official government request.” The man snapped back at Sherlock. “I am here to see you to my home and inquire about the proper medical staff needed for your care until he returns.” 

_ Wait… Mycroft worked for the government??  _ Greg knew he had to have been someone important. _ But wow. _

“Don’t trouble yourself. I am going to Lestrade’s.” Sherlock lifted his chin. “You and my brother can piss off.” 

“This man is not fit to care for you.” The man sneered towards Greg, looking him up and down. 

“Oi!” Greg found himself standing a little straighter under the man’s obvious look of distaste.  _ Who was this man to judge him?  _

“I don’t need anyone to care for me!” Sherlock declared. “I have been doing just fine on my own.” 

Greg thought back to the last time he had seen Mycroft, it had been at the hospital where Sherlock was recovering from an overdose.  _ So maybe not so good about taking care of himself.  _

The man huffed a laugh as his phone began beeping in his hand. 

“You better take that, can’t keep his highness waiting. Give him my best, Charles and tell him to piss off. Let’s go, Lestrade.” Sherlock started moving again and Greg moved with him. 

  
_ Charles? Charles... Why did that name sound familiar when associated with Mycroft? Greg _ pondered as they finally made it out of the hospital and to Greg’s car. Once he helped Sherlock into the front seat and rounded to the other side it hit him.

_ CHARLES!  _

_ Every time Mycroft stopped texting him there had been a mention of Charles. Then the night they had kissed, Charles had called and then Mycroft had sent him on his way. Charles must be the fiance… No wonder he didn’t like Greg right off the bat. Of course, Mycroft’s fiance would be just as well dressed and posh as Mycroft himself. What was Greg then? Just a moment of lapse? A bit of rough while the fiance was away? God, he was an idiot for thinking Mycroft truly liked him… _


	5. Go back and leave me alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all still enjoying this story and thank you for your lovely comments. <3

**Chapter 5**

One week later, Sherlock was better and back at his own flat - it had been an interesting few days with him. Sherlock had spent most of it sulking in a way that Greg had never seen before. He had taken it in stride, letting the anger roll off him, knowing Sherlock was just mad that he couldn’t go running about. They were able to track down and arrest the two men who had beaten Sherlock. 

They had been trying to mug Sherlock and unfortunately caught him with a surprise punch before Sherlock could react. With Sherlock’s description of the culprits, they had been able to find them quickly, hiding in a drug house by the docks. 

Now, Sherlock had healed enough to return home and Greg was back to a quiet, empty flat. Even though Sherlock had been irritating, it had been nice to have another person around. Someone to fill the quiet void, to make Greg feel not so alone. 

Now, here he was a week later, sitting in his office dreading going back to the flat alone, trying to make the paperwork in front of him last longer. 

Outside his office, he could hear the tap of what sounded like a cane coming closer, followed by a voice asking which way to his office. _That voice, oh god. He would know it anywhere. Not a cane, it was an umbrella… Mycroft…_

Sure enough, seconds later, Mycroft stood in the door of his office, his umbrella firmly in his hand by his side. 

“Good evening, Inspector.” 

_Fuck, that posh voice. His heart longed again for what he couldn’t have. Remember, he is engaged and didn’t tell you._

“Mr Holmes, what can I do for you?” Greg stood to shake Mycroft’s hand with all the professionalism he could muster. _Don’t remember the feel of his hand clasping yours, guiding you through the halls of the hospital. His lips on yours, soft and firm at the same time. Business. All business. No time for feelings._ Greg’s heart twisted in his chest. 

“It has come to my attention that you aided my brother this past week. I am here to compensate you for any inconvenience this may have caused.” Mycroft looked down at his brolly before meeting Greg’s eyes. 

“It was no inconvenience. Just helping a mate that needed me.” Greg shrugged. _He didn’t need anything from Mycroft. Better this way, keep it short and brief. No emotions, no attachment._

“I see.” Mycroft seemed to be thinking. “ Very well then, I will take my leave. I do want to thank you for what you did for him.” 

“You’re welcome, nothing I wouldn’t do for anyone else.” 

“Hmmm,” Mycroft turned, taking a step before turning back. “May I ask a question of you, that has been plaguing me for some time.” 

Greg’s thoughts paused, then he nodded. _What could Mycroft want now? Couldn’t he just leave before Greg’s heart breaks again and the tears of what could have been started…_

“May I inquire as to the reason you stopped all contact with me?” Mycroft looked down again, his face a blank canvas. 

Greg didn’t know what to say at first, his heart and brain stumbled. “What do you mean I stopped? I think you know why I did it. At least you should. If you can’t understand, then that is for you to deal with. Not me.” Greg was getting angry now. _Did Mycroft really think that Greg would continue to see him after finding out about his posh fiance? And he wasn’t the one that stopped their communication. Mycroft stopped responding first by changing his number._

“I see… Forgive me for taking up your time.” Mycroft had a look of confusion as he swiftly turned and left Greg’s department at a quick pace. 

As he left, Greg could feel his heart longing, aching for that gorgeous man. He wanted nothing more than to chase after him, take his face in his hands and kiss Mycroft just once more. _But that was not possible…_

Sitting back down in his office chair, Greg thought over their conversation. _How had Mycroft just found out about Sherlock? Surely, his fiance had told him? He had said as much when he had arrived at the hospital. Maybe this was just another Mycroft lie… Would he ever just tell the truth?_

Greg shook his head in anger. _When would he learn to stop falling in love with liars and cheaters?_ Karen had lied more during their relationship than she had told the truth, the same for Mycroft. Greg didn’t know what was truth and what wasn’t anymore. The easiest thing was to assume it’s all lies at this point. 

Greg figured there was no reason to stay at work now; since Mycroft had just been there, nothing would make his flat seem less lonely now. Time to pick up some takeaway and go home, maybe pick up some beers to help drown everything out. It was Friday and he had nowhere to be this weekend for once. He picked up his things and headed for the door, calling out goodnight to a few people on his way. 

As he walked out, he called in takeaway from the Indian place just down from the station, he could walk there then come back for his car. Once outside the station, he saw a lone black car sitting at the kerb. Not thinking much he started down the street, only to hear his name being called out. 

“Gregory,” 

Greg stopped in his tracks before slowly turning. _How dare he use that name right now._ Standing next to the black car was Mycroft. Greg glared at him from where he stood, waiting for Mycroft to speak. 

Mycroft had a pleading look on his face, his arms hung loosely at his side. He looked defeated. 

“Gregory, I-”

“I met him, you know.” Greg interrupted, his anger boiling over. “Posh and superior just like you.” He huffed, while he stared at Mycroft daring him to lie. 

“Met who?” 

“Of course,” Greg shook his head, turning his back. _Why had he thought any differently? Liars always lie. Karen taught him that._ “Look I have to go.”

“Gregory--”

“NO!” Greg yelled, spinning around, his right hand pointing at Mycroft’s chest. “You don’t get to use that name! You don’t get to stand there looking hurt and confused when it is my heart that was destroyed during this! You will not blame me! I was nothing but kind and you used that against me.” His voice cracked. “God, you used my caring nature for your benefit, then nothing.”

Greg brought his hands up covering his face, willing the tears not to flow as he took a deep shaky breath. 

“I have not done that...” came a quiet voice from the other side of Greg’s hands. 

Greg huffed a humourless laugh, lowering his hands, looking up at Mycroft, who still hadn’t moved from beside his car. “The fact that you think that just shows how different we are. In your world, this must be a normal thing. I won’t be someone’s side piece, the “mistress”.” Greg shook his head, starting to turn back to the direction he was heading. “Go back to Charles, and leave me the fuck alone.”

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft watched, unable to move or speak as Greg walked away from him with his shoulders hunched over and hands jammed in his pockets. Mycroft wanted to chase after him and hold him tight to his chest, make him understand what he meant to Mycroft. But the words that Greg had said just before turning away were racing through his mind. _Didn’t want to be Mycroft’s mistress? What in heaven's name was Greg talking about?_

_Charles… Greg had said, “Go back to Charles.”_

Mycroft’s heart sank in his chest. _Greg wanted nothing to do with him and somehow that had to do with Charles._ Mycroft’s heartbreak turned into a fury that Charles would never have seen the likes of but was about to see first-hand. 

Turning swiftly, he entered the car parked behind him. “Whitehall, James. Now.” 

As the car pulled into traffic, Mycroft went over the past few months, replaying the events involving Greg and Charles. Trying to decide just where things went wrong. 

He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on Greg, he was dashing through the airport coming from Mycroft’s own flight. He had chosen to fly back from Germany on a regular flight instead of waiting for the company jet as his meeting had ended early. The small-minded individuals that he had met with were never going to see what he saw in their big ideas. It had not been worth his time. 

The flight back had proven fruitful as he noted the beautiful detective leaving the plane. Following him had just sort of happened, as they were headed to the same area for their bags. He had been somewhat close enough that he could have stopped Greg to switch the bags had he wanted to right there. But then it would have been a short _Oh sorry_ followed by an equally quick _Thank you_ and Mycroft wanted more for their first meeting. 

Moving forward he thought about their first dinner together. Greg had been stunning, and Mycroft had struggled to control his desire for the man while dealing with a fallout between two small countries via quietly texting his PA under the table. He had wanted nothing more than to turn off his phone and become completely absorbed in the man across from him, but the constant texts from his soon to be ex-PA had not stopped. 

Cutting dinner shorter than he had planned was painful, but worse when he saw the rejection cross over Greg's face. They had shared a few text messages for the next week, but nothing until Greg came upon him in the hospital, while he was waiting to hear about Sherlock. 

That night had been... he wasn’t even sure how to describe it. Perfect. He had felt like they had connected like no one else he had ever met in his life. Holding Greg’s hand was like coming home, it was more natural and comforting then drawing breath in his lungs. Mycroft hadn’t wanted to let go of that, leaning against Greg had filled him with a longing for a touch that he didn’t know was missing. 

That night on his couch, feeling Greg’s lips on his, Greg’s hands on his face, his mind had completely shut down to anything but Greg’s touch. Then the call from Charles. 

Mycroft’s anger rose again - by the time they reached Whitehall, he was seething. Opening his door before his driver could get there, Mycroft strolled into the building and to the lift, umbrella in hand. 

Stepping out on his floor, he walked the length of the hall briskly, pausing for half a second in front of his PA’s desk. 

“My office now.” 

A slightly stunned Charles stood and followed Mycroft through the door, closing it behind him.


	6. Charles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Time for Charles to pay the piper. Thank you all for your great comments on the last chapter! I am happy that I was able to surprise a lot of you with the revel of who Charles was. I hope you all in enjoy this chapter. Big thanks to my beta @paialovespie for her suggestions and editing on each chapter. Don't know what I would do without her in my corner! If you are not already reading her works, you really should be.   
> All right the moment you have been waiting...

**Chapter 6**

Mycroft rounded his desk to stand behind it, his hands holding the back of his chair. His place of power. He watched Charles enter the room, close the door and stand before him. 

“Sit down,” Mycroft said harshly. He saw a look flash across Charles's eyes as he reluctantly sat down. “Something has come to my attention regarding you. Frankly, I am surprised that you would stoop to such a measure.” 

Charles opened his mouth in protest, but Mycroft silenced him with the raise of his hand. “I don’t need to hear it. I am disappointed in you, Charles. I would like to know why you did it.” 

Charles was quiet for a moment before spitting angrily. “He didn’t deserve you! 

_ At least there was no doubt that Charles knew exactly what Mycroft was asking about.  _

“Who are you to make that call?” Mycroft demanded.

Charles’s face twisted. “I have always been here. Late nights, early mornings, weekends. We had spent the last three years together, yet you don’t see me. Then this man, this undeserving divorcee waltzes into your life and suddenly everything changes. I knew from the beginning when you returned his bag instead of letting me, that this piece of trash had caught you in his web. He would ruin you and make you a laughing stock everywhere!” Charles stood, slamming his hands on Mycroft’s desk. “So I did what I had to do! Since you had me put together a file on him, I used that information to get rid of him then blocked his number from your phone without you knowing!”

Mycroft watched the display in anger. “You lied to him!” 

“Of course, I did! I knew he would never stand for a cheater or be the possible reason someone's marriage failed!” Charles all but shouted. 

Mycroft felt the words slam against him.  _ Greg thought he was married! Or the very least engaged. No wonder Greg didn’t want to talk to him at all.  _ His anger raged as his mind went over everything Charles had said. He found that he couldn’t listen to another word that came from Charles. 

“You will leave this instant. You will never work in any government section again. If I see your face or hear your name ever, you will find yourself in a very unpleasant place.” Mycroft spoke each word clearly and calmly. Reaching for the button on his desk, he signalled for agents to enter his office.

Charles watched him. “You think this is the end? I know everything there is to know about you. I have helped with everything for years. You will be lost without me! You are nothing without me!” 

As the agents entered the room, he grew more frantic. “You don’t know what kind of man he is! He will ruin you! You will be sorry!” 

Mycroft nodded to the agents. “Please see that this man is debriefed and put where he can do no harm. Thank you. And you Charles, I will waste no breath on a rebuttal as you will not hear it anyway.” 

The agents removed Charles, who was kicking and screaming insults at Mycroft. Once the door to his office closed behind them, Mycroft sank into his chair, elbows hitting the desk, head falling into his hands. A long sigh left his body. 

This is not how he thought today would go. Gregory was very angry with him, his PA was likely on his way to Antarctica if he continued to cause trouble, and all he wanted to do was to go home.

Three hours later, Mycroft entered his flat, dropping takeaway on the counter before moving to open a bottle of wine. It had been a trying week, and he needed something to help him relax. First a little wine with dinner, then a little more while he enjoyed a warm bath. He smiled at the thought, the bottle popping opening easily. As he waited for it to breathe, his mind wandered to Greg, thinking about what it may be like if he was here to enjoy this bottle with Mycroft. 

_ Would they share it on the couch like they had the whiskey last time? Would they slowly move closer, pretending to just be getting comfy? Would Greg let Mycroft kiss him again? Hold his hand? What was that ringing?  _

_ Oh! His phone was ringing! _

“Hello?” 

“Sir, this is Anthea in surveillance. There is a development with your brother.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The development was Sherlock trying to take several items from the morgue without asking. By the time Mycroft arrived, he found that Greg had already handled the situation and Sherlock was being taken back to his flat. Once more, Mycroft was indebted to Greg for his help with Sherlock. He slowly made his way to where Greg stood talking to a staff member of the morgue.

He watched Greg notice him and flinch at the sight. He had a burning desire to let Greg know that he wasn’t married or engaged. He needed to clear that up whether Greg continued to speak to him or not. 

“Detective Inspector, may I have a word?” Mycroft wanted so badly to call him Gregory but after last time…

Greg looked up at him. “What do you want, Mycroft? I am not in the mood. I'm tired and I just want to go home.” 

Mycroft thought for a moment that maybe he should wait to talk to Greg about this. Deciding to soldier on, he continued. “Might I give you a lift home, so that we might speak privately?” 

“No,” Greg shook his head, looking around them as if to make sure they were now alone. “I thought I made myself clear earlier today. I don’t want to be around you. If you want to talk to me about Sherlock, then we will talk right here. Otherwise, I have a ride, thanks.”

“I see,” Mycroft adjusted his cuffs. “Then I will thank you for once again helping Sherlock and ask that you keep me apprised of such things in the future. I will not inconvenience you further with any matters involving you and I. Good evening, Inspector.” Mycroft turned and walked back to his car as fast as he could without making a scene. 

_ Hold it together. Just hold it together until you are out of sight.  _ Just as he reached the car, he heard Greg call out. 

“How am I to let you know?” 

Mycroft stopped, looking back over his shoulder to Greg. “I believe you have my number. You will find it works now.” With that said, he nodded and ducked into the car. 

“Home, please.” Through the blacked-out windows, he watched Greg until he couldn’t see him anymore. Silent tears running down his cheeks. 


	7. What do you mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this chapter is ten years late. The last week and a half have been busy and crazy. Didn't even get it finished until Monday. Anyways here is chapter 7 I hope you enjoy it. I have chapter 8 written and part of 9, so I may still post chapter 8 on Sunday we will see. Enjoy.

**Chapter 7**

Months had passed. Three months, 12 days, 6 hours, since he had talked to Greg about anything besides Sherlock. _How is Sherlock? Is he staying clean? Can you find him a case? Yes, I will pay his bail._

That was the extent of his conversations with Gregory. He dearly wanted more than that, but Greg continued to make it clear this was all he could have. 

Then came the day John Watson entered Sherlock’s life. Of course, Mycroft had to make sure the man would not get in the way of Sherlock’s recovery. What better way than kidnapping him and asking him for his intentions towards Sherlock. 

The next day, Mycroft received a surprise phone call from Greg. He looked up at Anthea, who sat across from him. 

“If you could give me a moment,” Mycroft lifted his phone from where it rested on his desk. 

“Of course, sir. I will be right outside if you need me.” She stood and left the room. 

Anthea had become indispensable from the moment she had applied for Charles’ position. Mycroft had vetted each applicant with great care, not wanting a repeat of what had happened.

“Hello, Inspector,” Mycroft answered, in his best casual voice. 

“Did you really kidnap him, Mycroft?” Greg didn’t sound happy. Though he always seemed upset around Mycroft now. 

“Kidnap whom?” Mycroft questioned, hoping his voice didn’t reflect the leap his heart just took when Greg used his name. He hadn’t heard Greg using anything besides ‘Mr Holmes’ since well-- before. 

“Don’t play dumb with me. John. Did you kidnap John?” Greg sighed.

“Ah,” Mycroft paused. “Yes, though I wouldn’t call it a kidnapping, per se...” 

“Mycroft, you picked him up off the kerb and berated him about Sherlock. What would you call that?” 

“Looking out for my brother’s best interest?” Mycroft answered innocently. He didn’t want this conversation to end, it was the longest they had spoken in months. 

Greg sighed. “Mycroft,”

“Yes, Gregory?” Mycroft tried hopefully. 

There was a pause from Greg. "You just can't kidnap him. He is mad, and so is Sherlock now." 

Mycroft could hear Greg shaking his head through the phone, though he said nothing about Mycroft's use of his name. One small victory. "I was only protecting my brother." 

"Yea, I know. Just don't send John off to Timbuktu or wherever you sent your last PA. Okay?" 

Mycroft's breath caught in his throat. "How do you know about that?" 

"Sherlock was going on about how mad you were at your last assistant before hiring Anthea. Said you sent him to the moon or something like that. Anyways, I just don't think John or Sherlock would be very happy with you if you did that to John." 

"Yes, well he had it coming. John will not see the same fate unless he hurts my brother." Mycroft realized as he spoke this was his moment to finally tell Greg that Charles had all been a lie. "Gregory, since you brought up--," 

"Hang on Mycroft." Mycroft heard Greg muffle the phone. "What is it, Donovon? Murder in the east end? Damn, alright, let's go! Hey, Mycroft sorry I have to run. Leave John alone okay?" 

Mycroft felt his heart deflate. "Yes of course." Looking down at his phone, he could see that Greg had already hung up. "Goodbye, Gregory." 

Setting the phone down, Mycroft called for Anthea to enter the room again. "Let us continue prepping for the meetings. Is the plane ready for departure at five?" 

"Yes, sir. We will be leaving on the dot." Anthea sat down notepad in hand. "Before we begin, may I ask why you still haven't told him, sir?" 

"No, you may not. Shall we begin?"

"Yes, sir," 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg sprinted down the alley just behind Sherlock and John, wishing his feet were ten years younger as he rounded the corner, finding John tackling the suspect while Sherlock deduced a hidden knife in the suspect's jacket. 

Once John had the man and knife secure, he and Sherlock started grinning at each other for a moment, a look passing between them that made Greg just a bit jealous. 

God, he missed having someone to share things with. Really, seeing John and Sherlock together made him miss Mycroft. 

Getting to talk to Mycroft earlier and hearing him saying ‘Gregory’ again, only made the ache worse. It had been so long since they were anything, not that they were really ever anything, but why did it still hurt so much? Why couldn't he move on from him? Why was it that every time Mycroft spoke, Greg wanted to pull him into his arms? God, they only ever had one kiss, nothing more. Why wouldn’t the pain stop? 

As the rest of his team began showing up to help with the arrest, Greg was pulled back out of his mind and into reality. 

John and Sherlock stood off to the side, talking like they were thinking about running out on the paperwork Greg would need them to fill out. 

He decided to remind them. "Hey, don't you two forget to come in and fill out statements. Either today or tomorrow. Alright?"

As John agreed without arguing, Greg could see Sherlock watching him, his mind deducing. 

"You spoke to Mycroft," 

"Yea, what about it?" Greg answered. "I speak to your brother now and then." 

"This is different. You still like him. Why?" Sherlock said, looking at him more clinically as he moved closer. 

"Why does it matter?" Greg huffed, he was not getting into this with Sherlock. Not today, not ever. "It's not like he is available."

Sherlock looked puzzled. "While I will admit my brother is sometimes emotionally stunted, I would still consider him available, though why would you want to be with him?." 

"What do you mean ‘available’? Your brother is engaged.” Greg bite out angrily.

“Charles.” Sherlock’s eyebrows knit together as his mind moved a million miles an hour. “That is why you acted the way you did at the hospital, and why Mycroft practically deported the man. You thought Mycroft was engaged and cheating.” 

“You mean he isn’t?” Greg suddenly felt dizzy - reaching a handout, he leaned against the car next to him. “Don’t lie to me, Sherlock.” Greg felt John appear next to him, checking his wrist.

“Why would I lie?” Sherlock looked puzzled, then his face changed. “Oh, you think Mycroft lied to you!”

Greg tried to keep up with all the emotions running through him. Happiness that Mycroft wasn’t really engaged. Fear that maybe Sherlock was lying. Anger that Mycroft let him think he was engaged. Relief that maybe things could work out for them. Before landing on full-blown rage that Mycroft never said anything and just let him think that Mycroft lied. 

“Excuse me.” Greg pushed away from John as he pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly dialling Mycroft’s number. _Pick up...pick up, pick up dammit!_

**_You have reached the voicemail box of Mycroft Holmes. I am unable to answer at this moment. Leave a message and I will return your call at my earliest convenience. Beep._ **

“Damn it Mycroft. I am not doing this over voicemail. Call me.” Greg hung up the phone. Staring at the blank screen for a moment before putting it back in his pocket. _Now he just had to wait..._

  
  



	8. The Talk.

**Chapter 8**

Three hours later, Greg received a call back. He had been sitting on his sofa watching crap telly. In reality, his mind had been going over everything that had happened between him and Mycroft. Every misunderstanding that drove a wedge between them. 

He absently answered the phone expecting Donovon to be calling. 

“Hello?” 

“Good evening, Detective Inspector Lestrade,” Mycroft’s posh velvet voice filled his ears. 

“Oh hey, Mycroft. Wasn’t expecting you, Uhm, I mean,” Greg fumbled over his words as he sat up from the sofa, knocking his mug to the floor. “Oh shit.” He grabbed for the mug, just missing the handle. 

“I am sorry. If this is a bad time, I can call back.”

“No, NO! Sorry, just dropped cold coffee all over me. Nothing I can’t handle. What’s up?” Greg hurried to the kitchen for a towel to clean up the mess he had made. 

“I believe you left me a message with regards to a matter you didn’t want to discuss over voicemail?” 

“Oh yea, sorry.” Greg threw the towel down.  _ God, he is such an idiot and worse he sounds like a complete bumbling fool.  _ “Look I would like to talk to you in person. Can we meet? Grab a coffee? Maybe?” 

Mycroft cleared his throat. “I am afraid that is not possible... I am out of town for the next few days on business.” 

“Ah, right. Ok well, I guess..” Greg paused, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I guess, I really just wanted to know why you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let me believe all of that?” 

There was silence on the line. “Mycroft?” 

A quiet cough then a soft whisper. “I didn’t think you would care to know. You were so angry, your judgement already made on the kind of man you thought I was.” 

Greg pressed a hand to his chest. The ache was almost unbearable.  _ What kind of man Mycroft was? What kind of man was Greg for making Mycroft feel he couldn’t tell him so important?  _ Greg had accepted everything he heard at face value and never questioned because his first thought was no one as amazing as Mycroft would want him. So of course what everyone else said had to be true… He never took a moment to think of how this would have felt to Mycroft… To have no idea what was happening… 

Greg covered his eyes with his free hand as tears slowly ran down his cheek. “I am so sorry. I should… I should have just talked to you about everything, instead of just believing you would treat me that way.”

The line was quiet again. “Mycroft? Are you still there? I understand if you are angry and well if you would rather not talk to me after the way I treated you. But could you just tell me why it happened and who Charles was?” 

Another throat cleared then quietly Mycroft spoke. “Charles was a rather misguided assistant of mine, I am afraid. It was all a lie that I had no idea was happening. I found out that day outside the Met when you told me to go back to Charles. I confronted him shortly after... I am sorry that I found out too late. I didn’t know… Gregory, I am sorry.” 

Greg felt a sob catch in the back of his throat. He had no words to say at this moment.  _ It wasn’t Mycroft’s fault, it was his fault for reacting the way he did. It had been the perfect line up of misunderstandings and zero communication. So much wasted time they could have spent together. Was everything ruined now? Or could they find a way through and try again??? _

“No, Mycroft, I am sorry. I should have asked you instead of just assuming. We could have avoided all of this. When I got the text from him saying you were engaged and not to contact you again and then to find out your number didn’t work anymore I just thought that was it. That I was just a side piece and you didn’t care.” Greg’s voice cracked as the tears ran down his cheeks. 

Mycroft’s voice sounded as though he was crying as well. “Of course, I care Greg. I care quite a lot. I have since the beginning, which is why Charles took it upon himself to ruin it. He thought it would make me seem weak.” 

“I wish you were here. I would really like to see you right now.” Greg wiped his eyes, leaning back on his sofa. His body felt drained from all the emotions. 

“I will be back in three days.” Mycroft’s voice is quiet and soft in Greg’s ear. 

“I wish it was sooner.” 

“As do I. I have a few more minutes before my next meeting if you wish to continue talking. You are also welcome to call or text me until I return.” 

“Yea, that would be nice. I have missed you.” 

“I have missed you, Gregory.”

“I have missed you calling me Gregory,” Greg smiled into the phone.

Mycroft hummed. “As have I.” 

They chatted for a few more moments before Greg could hear Anthea enter the room to remind Mycroft of the time. 

“We will talk later, yes?” Mycroft asked, a soft plea in his voice. 

“Yes of course. Go to your meeting, sweetheart. We will talk later.”

“Very good. Until then, Gregory.” 

“Hey Mycroft, wait. I..uhm.. would like to take you to dinner when you get back. If that's okay?” 

“That would be very okay. Shall we talk about it more later? I really must run.” 

“Yea, sure. Goodbye Mycroft.”

“Until later, Gregory.” Mycroft hung up the phone as Greg lingered for the last seconds listening to him. He was exhausted from everything, but his heartfelt lighter than it had in months. His eyes still stung and were most likely bloodshot from the crying but Mycroft was back and Greg had a dinner date with him in just a few days.  _ He hadn’t ruined everything. _

Greg couldn’t have felt happier. All his worries seemed to melt away.  _ Mycroft was back.  _ If it wasn’t well after dark, he would swear the sun had started to shine again. Life seemed brighter. He could fall asleep here on the sofa with dreams of one gorgeous man in a three-piece suit and an umbrella walking towards him. A smile on his lips and the name Gregory drifting through the breeze. It would be the most beautiful dream he had enjoyed in some time. 

Though they still had a lot to talk about and sort through, Greg felt like for once things were going to be okay. With a smile on his face, Greg dragged his butt off the sofa and across his flat to his bedroom, time for a quick shower then off to bed. Tomorrow would bring a new day with a new chance to talk to Mycroft. 

  
  
  



	9. Hold me close.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys come together. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your hats, this is where the story earns it E rating. This was originally the 3rd chapter but my brilliant beta Paia helped me realize it was too soon for the boys and she was completely right. I own her a ton for all the help she gave me during this story. Her cheerleading and wonderful suggestions were much needed and appreciated. I can't thank her enough. I hope you enjoy this second to the last chapter of Lean on Me. <3

**Chapter 9**

Two weeks, three dinner dates, and two coffee meets found Greg once again sitting on Mycroft’s black leather sofa with said man’s hands in his hair and his lips on Greg’s. They had spent many hours talking about everything that had happened between them. Everything was laid bare and both men felt peace between them. 

As Mycroft pulled back from Greg, they stared into each other's eyes. The moment grew quiet, and they shared a look that said  _ I‘m ready for more _ . Greg felt his nerves kick up, unsure of how to proceed. Thankfully, Mycroft stepped up to the challenge. Standing, he put out a hand to Greg, helping him stand from the sofa. 

“Come with me,” He asked softly, kissing Greg again while guiding him through the flat.

Greg let himself be led trustingly into the bedroom, all the while kissing Mycroft and removing clothes as they moved together. How they made it, he didn’t know, he just held on to Mycroft, helping him remove each article of clothing as they went. 

By the time they reached the bedroom, each wore only their pants, having removed everything else. Greg paused, stepping back to admire the man standing before him. His pale gorgeous skin was sprinkled with beautiful freckles, his hair had auburn strands that seemed to stand out more in the light of the bedroom.

Greg ran his eyes down Mycroft’s body, taking everything in. Between his mile-long legs, straining against the black cotton boxer briefs that hugged Mycroft’s form perfectly was the outline of an above average cock.  _ This man oozed power and confidence.  _ Greg was lost, he was head over heels for this man.

Looking back up, he found Mycroft’s eyes on him, searching his face as if to see how he measured up. The raised eyebrow and smirk said he didn’t care but Mycroft’s eyes said something different.

“You are so beautiful,” Greg whispered as he ran his hands down Mycroft’s arms to his hands, clasping them together, before stepping closer to catch Mycroft’s lips again. 

The kiss was soft and gentle, no rush just tasting, taking a sample. Like a slow-flowing river winding down a valley heading for passion-filled falls around the curve. Greg slid his hand into Mycroft’s hair at his nape, revelling in the softness he found there. 

_ How did he get this lucky?  _

Mycroft continued to take the lead, his hands on Greg’s hips as he moved them across the room to the large bed on the far wall. Greg let himself be guided onto the bed and laid back upon the pillows. He let out a groan as Mycroft towered over him, easing his thighs apart before kneeling between them. 

Surely, he had died and gone to heaven. Greg watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Mycroft leaned forward on his arms, kissing a line from Greg’s right hip bone to his left nipple. As Mycroft began to suck and nibble on his nipple, Greg realized he may not survive this night. 

He arched off the bed, one hand gripping Myroft’s bicep, the other was on the back of Mycroft’s head carefully pressing him closer as he moved to Greg’s right nipple. 

“Oh god,” Greg moaned. He had forgotten what it felt like to be with a man. After being married for five years to a woman, having dated her for three before they got married and then there was the year of separation. Not to mention, he hadn’t had a boyfriend in the two years before he met her. That was eleven years without this and he missed it. 

The hard planes, a flat chest, the masculine scent overpowering his senses, Greg liked not always being in control. Sometimes it was nice to just feel for a change, let the other lead for a while. The feel of Mycroft’s lips on his pulse point was sending shivers down his spine. 

He groaned as Mycroft latched on to his neck sucking a mark that would undoubtedly last days. Greg liked the slight pain that came from Mycroft sucking and biting at his neck. Greg slid his hand farther into Mycroft’s hair, gripping tightly as he arched against his body. 

“Oh god, Mycroft,” Greg groaned into Mycroft’s ear as their erections slid together. Even with two layers still separating them, the feel of Mycroft’s cock grinding against his all but undid his remaining restraint. “Oh god, I need you. Please,” Greg begged. 

“What do you need, Gregory?” Mycroft asked as he ran his tongue up Greg’s neck to nibble on his ear. “Tell me what you want.” 

“You. Fuck, I need you in me, please.” Greg begged as Mycroft continued to suck at his jaw and neck, his slender long fingers playing Greg’s body like an instrument. 

Mycroft growled into Greg’s neck at the request, he moved towards the nightstand beside the bed, pulling out a posh lube that Greg recognized having found it in Mycroft’s bag just before they met. 

They slid their pants off together and onto the floor, kissing and touching as they went. Greg hadn’t felt this hard in years, he could feel his cock standing almost straight out, even lying down as he was. The man responsible for that was currently kneeling over him, looking down, his own cock standing out proudly. Greg reached his hand out, wrapping it around Mycroft’s cock causing the man to let out a hiss at the touch. 

Tightening his grip, he leaned forward a bit, sliding his hand up Mycroft’s cock from tip to root, making the man groan and thrust his hips in time with Greg’s hand. It was one of the most gorgeous sights to watch, Mycroft kneeling between his legs, his head thrown back, gripping Greg’s thighs as Greg slowly stroked Mycroft’s cock. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft groaned. “You..have..to..stop. Ahhh. If.. you... want...if you want me in you.” 

Greg slowed his hand. Bringing Mycroft to the point of almost not being able to speak made him smile proudly. He leaned up as Mycroft leaned towards him, sealing their lips together, before pulling away to lay back down. Mycroft followed him down, giving him one more kiss before picking up the lube and squeezing some onto his fingers. 

“Remember to relax,” Mycroft smiled at him as his hand reached between Greg’s thighs, gently fingering his puckered hole. Greg arched and writhed on the bed, clutching handfuls of the duvet as Mycroft continued to circle and massage around the rim before sliding a single finger in. 

Greg felt his body relax and invited Mycroft inside, letting out a sigh at the feeling. He heard Mycroft groan. 

“Oh god, you feel so tight.” Mycroft eased his slender finger past the first knuckle, causing Greg to breathe out heavily as he did, relaxing his body even more. 

Mycroft continued to stretch and ease his way into Greg’s body, as he slid lower between Greg’s thighs and began to lap at his cock. Greg gasped at the sensation of having both his cock sucked and a finger opening him up. He moved his hands to grip Mycroft’s shoulders, trying to keep from thrusting up and hurting Mycroft. 

He lost all track of time and just let himself feel through each of his senses, which were constantly being overloaded. At some point, Mycroft had eased in a second then a third finger, still lapping at Greg’s cock, not enough to bring him off but just keeping him soaring on edge. 

Mycroft slid back up Greg’s body, his lips near Greg’s ear.” Are you ready, my dear?” 

“Oh god, yes, please.” Greg moaned, tightening his grip on Mycroft’s biceps.

Mycroft lined up and pushed forward, slowly easing into Greg’s welcoming body. Greg let out a gasp, moaning his pressure into his lover’s ear as Mycroft kissed his neck and jaw. 

“Oh god, yes.” Greg couldn’t hold in his moans and gasps, while Mycroft continued to thrust inside his body. It was the best feeling. So intimate and amazing. He tried to pull Mycroft closer, to make their bodies touch as much as possible. “God, Mycroft. I love you,” slipped out in a breathy moan as they moved together. 

“I love you as well, Gregory.” came a reply in an equally out of breath voice. 

_ Mycroft loved him.  _ Greg could have cried. In fact, he may have...

  
  
  



	10. Together at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you to everyone for following this story with me and for your lovely comments each chapter. I have loved them each step of the way. Thank you once again to my amazing beta Paia! She is an awesome cheerleader and fixer of my tenses. I hope you all enjoy this final soft chapter of this story. Thank you all so much. <3

**Chapter 10**

Lying here in this bed, Mycroft felt surrounded with love. No happier man could be found at this moment, he was sure. His husband of twelve hours lay next to him, wrapped in the safety of his arms. Mycroft leaned his head slightly forward to place a kiss on his husband’s neck. 

_ How he loved this man.  _

Just thirteen hours ago, he had stood in front of the mirror, giving his suit just one more check before it would be time to see Gregory. As he stared at the man in the mirror, he thought back to a time when he had felt so alone, a time he thought no one could ever love him, a time before he had met Greg. 

**Thirteen hours earlier:**

“You look happy, brother.” 

Mycroft turned to see Sherlock standing in the door. “I am, Sherlock. Gregory makes me very happy.” He cleared his throat before adding. “I would like to say thank you for your part in this.”

Sherlock shrugged. “I didn’t do anything really.”

“You did what I couldn’t. If you hadn’t - talked to Greg, we might not be here today. So thank you.” Mycroft reached his hand towards Sherlock. A gesture. A handshake of thanks between brothers. It hovered there in mid-air for a moment before Sherlock stepped forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a hug. 

It was quick but Mycroft couldn’t help the swelling in his heart at the display of love his brother was showing. They had grown closer through all of this. They were at a place in their lives where they still tormented each other now and then as siblings do, but it was more out of fun than true malice. 

Sherlock was remaining off the drugs and this led to less arguing between them, for which Mycroft was grateful. Stepping back from his brother, Mycroft smiled and straightened Sherlock’s tie. 

“Are you ready, brother mine, to carry out the best man duties?” Mycroft chuckled at the eye roll that Sherlock gave him. 

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied. “Let us go before your husband-to-be comes to his senses and makes a run for it.” 

“Behave,” Mycroft laughed. “But yes, let’s hurry just in case.” 

Mycroft followed Sherlock out the door and down the stairs to meet the one man he had ever truly loved in his lifetime. 

The wedding was short and sweet, Sherlock standing by with Mycroft, and John beside Gregory. When the pastor announced them as husband and husband, they shared a kiss that threatened to deepen but managed to stay tasteful. They shared a lovely lunch with the family before running to catch their plane. Hands clasped tightly during the flight, kisses placed on the back of hands, smiles traded as they embarked on a shared journey. 

  
  


**Back to the Present.**

Mycroft gazed at the matching Italian luggage sitting next to each other across the room. The two bags that brought them together. If Greg had not decided to give himself a gift while in Italy, they may never have met. It was only fitting that they should honeymoon in Italy. 

Mycroft thought about how thankful he was each day that things had worked out between him and Gregory. He was a very lucky man and he would never take that for granted. 

“You should be sleeping, love,” Greg shifted in Mycroft’s arms, pressing a sleepy kiss to Mycroft's hand that held his. 

“Not tired anymore.” Mycroft snuggled closer to his husband. 

“You should be after the wedding, the reception, the travelling and a bit of extra activity,” Greg smirked in a soft cheeky not quite awake yet way. 

Mycroft chuckled as he kissed his husband's hair. “Do behave, you scoundrel.” 

“Make me,” Gregory challenged, giggling as Mycroft began his assault, tickling and fending off his husband’s hands until the end resulted in Mycroft pinned to the bed. The giggles slowed as Greg hovered over him before leaning down, pressing a kiss to his lips. Mycroft let a moan escape as he arched up, trying to deepen the kiss. 

“I love you,” Greg whispered against his lips. 

“And I love you, Gregory.” 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter @octoberisblue or Tumblr @bluebuell33!


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